


Misery Loves Company

by silverducks



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverducks/pseuds/silverducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All is fair in love and war after all, so Loki shouldn't be too surprised when he meets his new prison mate. But precisely why is she here? A one shot inspired by the Thor 2 trailer, slight Loki/Sif.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery Loves Company

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started off as a drabble challenger from Murdur, for an Evil/Dark Sif. But it kinda got a lot longer and lot angstier!  
> The story title was suggested to me by lokixsifwarfrost on Tumblr.  
> Hope you enjoy reading this one-shot.

The footsteps at the stairs surprised Loki and he raised his eyes from the pages of the book. It was still several hours before the change of guard was due, and his uneaten food still lay warm by the door.

The footsteps grew louder, voices now filling the usual silence of his jail. One voice was achingly familiar and he straightened his back, eyes looking vigilantly at the glass. Sure enough, the sight of the Shieldmaiden appeared a few moments later, but though he tried to keep his expression shrouded in scorn and indifference, even he could not fail to hide his surprise. Two guards flanked Sif, and a further one followed behind, their weapons held ready. Her hands were tied together in shackles and chains followed her footsteps. Yet her head was held high, loose hair falling over her shoulders in disarray and eyes bright, mocking. A threatening smirk twisted her lips and she looked with hostility and derision at the guards around her. They shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, their hands clenching tighter at their spears in fear. When she saw him, she raised her eyes to his face, amusement and mischief dancing within them. She smiled, a long, slow menacing smile, flashing sharp teeth as she nodded in greeting.

Loki quickly recovered and answered with his own small nod, his eyes betraying his curiosity, but not, he hoped, his shock. He watched with a mask of mild amusement as Sif was taken into the cell adjacent to his own. The guards reached out as if to push her, but her eyes flashed menacingly and they fell back, spears now held out towards her. Sif gave them barely a glance, turning away from them and walking into the cell with purposeful strides. When she reached the back wall, she turned to face the guards, holding out her hands in a mocking challenge. The Ǽsir did not like to keep their prisoners in chains, it was deemed too uncivilised and they were far too confident in their own defences. But the guards looked uncertainly between them, none volunteering to remove the warrior’s shackles.

The spectacle drew his own smirk and he watched in amusement as they whispered between them, before one, obviously the guard in charge, pushed a key at another and motioned towards Sif. She smiled brightly at him, sharp teeth a dazzling white and the guard drew back in fear. The others held their spears out, the tip inches from Sif, though they themselves kept their distance. Loki could hardly blame them; even in chains the Shieldmaiden could easily crush them all. The guards knew this, as did Sif, and she seemed determined to remind them of it. When the guard fumbled at the locks on her feet, Sif reached out with her leg, as if to strike. The guard pulled back in fear, the key falling to the stone floor as Sif’s voice rang around the dungeons in laughter. It was a cold, bitter, derisive laughter, one he could never have imagined spilling from the ladies mouth. But she was no lady now, merely a prisoner like himself, and Loki longed to find out why she was here.

The guard in charge pushed aside his comrade in scorn, hastily picked up the key and proceeded to unlock the shackles around Sif’s wrists. The lock gave quickly, but Loki watched with enjoyment as the hands of the guard shook and he hastily retreated. He seemed about to say something, but Sif started to walk towards him and instead he quickly banged the glass door shut.      

The guards did not linger, not even to throw their second prisoner scornful looks, as they were want to do. The sound of the heavy oak door slamming shut echoed around the dungeon, and then there was silence once more.

Silence Loki had grown accustomed to, as he had to the bright lights of his prison and the vast, vacant space surrounding the glass walls of his cell. These last few months, he had become used to being alone with his thoughts and the few books they allowed him. Rarely did he receive visitors. The guards came twice a day with his meal. Thrice when the guards changed, checking on their prisoner and rarely venturing below the base of the stairs. His mother came when she could, stealing into the dungeon as she had been forbidden to see him. He had not seen Thor or Sif since the day they had escorted him to this cell, and here he had remained ever since.

Yet now he had a companion in the silence and he watched her slowly pace across her cell. Her strides were sure, confident and she looked around at the thick glass walls meticulously, already searching for any sign of escape. Eventually she sat down, shifting her feet impatiently before examining her nails. Poor Sif, Loki thought. She was use to activity and motion and freedom; the idleness and confides of prison life would suit her ill.

Curiosity won over his pride and he finally asked the question that had been plaguing him since he first saw her this day. He knew it would be no small crime for her to be brought here, to the deepest, most extravagant dungeon beneath the palace. Yet what could the valiant and loyal Lady Sif, Shieldmaiden of Asgard, have done to deserve such a punishment, and such fear from her captors?

“Forgive my impertinence, Lady Sif, but may I ask why you are here?”

Sif turned to look at him in surprise, as if she has quite forgotten he was there. “Do you not know? I thought little that happened within the palace escaped your notice.”

“Sadly I lack your brother’s ability to see beyond my current reality, so I have been unaware of anything happening outside my prison.” There was a touch of melancholy in his words, for his disconnection from the outside world was perhaps the greatest punishment to him. The surrounding chamber was soundproof and the guards spoke little in his presence. No doubt on direct orders, for no matter how much Loki had tried to trick and goad the guards in the first few weeks, they rarely revealed anything of import. It had been long since he had stopped bothering; teasing and frightening the guards had soon proved tedious.

“It would seem my brother’s gift has become my curse.” A smirk flickered across her lips and mischief danced in her eyes, though her tone was disappointed, listless. “It seems they do not take well to attempted murder in the palace any more.”

It took much concentration, but Loki swallowed his shock and asked as indifferently as he could manage, “And who, prey tell, have you attempted to murder?”

A roll of Sif’s eyes was her initial answer, before she looked down at her nails once more, a look of aggravation crossing her otherwise apathetic features. “Only a simple squalid mortal”

“I see,” Loki answered in response, the mystery resolving itself. He was not surprised, and perhaps that shocked him the most. His reply earned him a look of distaste from Sif, before she continued to inspect her nails. She would have preferred a weapon to examine, a sharp dagger or a slick throwing knife. Something to grip in her palm and make herself feel powerful, complete. Now there were no guards to mock she was growing listless. And bitter and angry at her capture, as most prisoners do, using the silence to think uninterrupted and repeatedly on their mistakes and failures. Loki knew all too well of that, but he had been given little entertainment for many months; goading Sif would be a suitable distraction for a time. “You tried to kill the mortal Jane, because Thor favours her over you.”

Sif’s expression darkened into anger and her fingers clenched into fists. Loki’s smirk returned at her reaction and he waited for her to continue.

“She has no right to the throne.”

“No, that worth you have claimed as your own.”

“And have I not fought for the right to it? Time and time again defending this realm and its Prince? I would have been a worthy Queen, not that simpering, snivelling mortal.”

“Jealousy suits you ill, Lady Sif.”

“It is not jealousy that led to my downfall, Loki Laufeyson! Of that, you should know well enough!”

“Vanity and power, then, Lady Sif, if those words are sweeter to your ears.” And they were, for the lady’s face relaxed somewhat, fingers unclenching in her palms. Loki knew the truth in her words, knew Sif’s affections for his brother were only ever material. She sought the throne, not the prince beside it. She had never made any lie of her intentions towards Thor to him, never disguised her contempt for his brother as she lay in his arms and slept in his bed. She was to be Asgard’s Queen and Loki was to remain her lover. Not his favoured scenario, but it would suffice. There was plenty of comfort and amusement to be had in the passion and desire she showed only for _him_. Delighting in stealing his brother’s prize and secretly mocking Thor and all of Asgard for believing in the Shieldmaiden’s guiles.

Only now it seemed the warrior had been caught out. With so little else to entertain him, Loki allowed his curiosity free reign. “Please do indulge me, what attempts did you make and how was it that you came to fail?”

An exasperated sigh left the warriors lips before she once more focused her attention upon her nails. “It seems I underestimated the mortal’s clumsiness and ability to ride a horse.” She glanced towards him and there was a mixture of malice and disappointment in her eyes, mischief and self contempt. She did not like to have failed, but had enjoyed her attempts nonetheless.

“Clumsiness, my Lady? You did not think to poison her did you, and she knocked over the chalice?”    

The glare of hatred that flashed in Sif’s eyes was answer enough and Loki laughed in amusement. Its mischievous sound felt unfamiliar, unnatural to his ears, echoing around the glass and reminding him of his own solitude in this prison. He could not remember when he had last found cause to laugh so warmly. Mocking the guards was of little significance in comparison. Already his heart and mind felt lighter, his confinement less severe, but then, the valiant Lady Sif had always had such an effect on him. Loki wondered if his captors, so bent on his eternal damnation, were aware of this saviour they had sent him. He laughed again, warmer still, as Sif stood and began pacing again, this time in agitation and anger.

“It was the finest of wine too; the silly mortal knocked it all over Fandral’s shirt. At least everyone else was laughing too much to notice its colour and smell.”

“And horseback Sif? Did you try and dispense of her whilst out riding.”

“Aye!” Sif answered in resignation. “Her horse bolted well enough when I knocked it, but it seems Jane knew how to bring it back under control. She even managed to stay on the thing, and after I had taken the trouble to slash her girth.”

Loki laughed, unable to stop himself as images swept into his mind. He could well picture the scene, the horse bolting, Thor trying desperately to reach his mortal, and Sif’s thunderous face as the mortal reined in her horse and remained seated. His laughter proved infectious and Sif’s frown was starting to twist into a playful smirk.

She stopped pacing and turned towards him, waiting for his next questions. Loki did not mean to disappoint her. “And was this misjudgement your final downfall Sif, or did you have any other mischief afoot?”

“It was my final attempt that was my undoing, and my brother’s sight my condemnation. The stable boy had seen me tend to the horses earlier, seen me fiddling with the horseshoes and saddle of her mare. Thor would never have believed my guilt, but the mortal is a viper, whispering in his ear. He began to doubt me. Me! His oldest and most trusted companion!”

Her pacing began again, increasing in fury, fingers clenching and unclenching rapidly.

“Their loyalties are easily twisted, my Lady, does that really surprise you?” The tone of regret that seeped unconsciously into his voice made the warrior stop her pacing. She turned to him and for a moment there was compassion in her eyes, understanding. Her face hardened a heartbeat later and once more her expression flashed in contempt, “Their loyalties are as fickle as the wind. Of that I have never doubted. But Thor’s? He is as loyal as the simpering, dim-witted dogs that roam the citadel, and as steadfast. Even now he still campaigns for your redemption! It was the mortal who turned him against me, the mortal who twisted his thoughts in her jealousy and rage!”

“And fears for her life, I would wager.” Loki sighed, already growing tiresome of Sif’s anger. He was impatience to hear the full extent of Sif's plans, and her downfall.

Sif scowled, “Her power over him is dangerous. She is weak, a mere mortal, yet she plans to become Asgard’s Queen? What fate should befall our realm if she is not stopped? At least I would have served it well, not left it to decay into ruin and bloodthirsty war!”

“Your concern does you proud, Lady Sif. Though Thor’s loyalties are persistent. There must be more to this story than you are sharing, my Lady.”

The sigh from Sif was answer enough and she seated herself before she continued. “It is true; Thor was not quite so willing to cast me to these dungeons based purely on the words of the stable boy or the mortal. Though perhaps sharing my opinions of the mortal with Thor was perhaps the first mistake I did make.”

She paused and looked around her prison cell once more. Loki remained silent, but continued to watch her. Whatever she was avoiding telling him would be known soon enough, Sif’s patience always had been short lived. After suffering his inquisitive gaze a few more moments, another exasperated sigh escaped her lips and she turned back towards her companion.

“It was my suggestion to ride out into the canyon in the east. Rock falls there are common; it was easy enough to rig one up for the mortal. Took me scarcely an hour that dawn, no one even noticed I was gone. Just a net and some rope, it was not hard. And the stupid mortal fell right into the trap! Pitiful! I asked for her help with adjusting the saddle of my mare, and when she came towards me, in just the right place, I kicked the snare free.” She paused again and took to examining her nails. It was becoming a worrisome sign of her nervousness and impatience. Her face was hard, her mouth tight, but her back was slouched, dejected. She did not like admitting her failure and in that Loki could sympathise. He waited for her to continue, though he could not stop the smirk from playing across his lips, or his own delight in the great Lady Sif brought so low.

It was not long before she continued, for what else was there but to share her story in this empty, cavernous prison. “It seems my calculations were not as accurate as I had envisioned. They fell too slowly and provided Thor ample time to destroy them before they struck the stupid mortal. Not even a pebble went near her! She has the luck of Yggdrasil on her side, of that I am certain.”

“Indeed she does, my Lady. And you have the luck of the damned on yours.” He smiled, goading her again and was rewarded by a glare. “You never were as skilled in strategy as I, my Lady.”

Sif’s scowl deepened and Loki’s smile grew.

“Your strategy led you to this dungeon before mine, Loki Laufeyson.” Her scowl slipped into her own smirk when Loki was unable to hide the anger that flashed across his face at her words.

He swallowed his anger quickly though and his voice was cold, mocking when he replied, “It was not lack of strategy that led to my confinement here, my Lady, but the actions of those who conceitedly call themselves the _Avengers_. Thrice your plans failed because you were too stupid to think them through!” He paused, waited for her to feel the weight of his words before he continued. He knew there was more to this tale which Sif was reluctant to tell, and curiosity was making him impatient. “Or is there still more attempts you made on the poor mortal’s life?”

“It would seem my previous attempts were my undoing.” She sighed, paused for a moment, unfolding the events in her mind. “That night Thor announced his engagement to the mortal.”

Her eyes were cast down and her voice grew despondent, but Loki could not stop the laughter that burst from his lips at her words. “Your attempts on her life scared Thor into proposing to her!” His words came between fits of laughter, each one sharpening the edge of malice and anger in her eyes. “Your plans truly have been cursed, my Lady! I fear to ask what desperate measures Thor’s engagement pushed you into!”

“How could they not! To see such a woman on the throne of Asgard! And to become betrothed so soon! She must truly have bewitched him!” She stood up angrily, fingers clenching and reaching instinctively for her sword that was no longer there. “The throne that should have been mine!” Her sudden outburst seemed to shock her, for she stopped, glanced uneasily at him and quickly seated herself once more. Her voice sounded wearier when she continued, as if the anger had drained the last ounce of strength she still had. “There was little time left for me then, Loki. The mortal had to be removed and it had to be soon. I…I poisoned my sword.”

Her last words were spoken quietly, barely above a whisper, but Loki heard them perfectly through the glass walls separating them. More than anything else she had said this night, this news shocked him the most. He struggled to hide it and her own eyes turned away from him, cast far beyond the expanse of her prison cell, to the very moment she made her mistake.

“You poisoned her sword?” He repeated her words in his shock, silvertongue stilled to silence for several moments. Then he felt a surge of anger rush though him. It was inexplicable, weak, but fuelled by his disappointment in her. “How could you be so foolish, Sif! Have all the years spent at my side taught you nothing? You must never lay a path of trickery or revenge that can so easily lead back to you. Suspicion can be twisted, silenced, but evidence is hard for even a silvertongue to refute.”

The angry words turned Sif’s head towards him, rage filling her eyes, and regret, perhaps even sadness that she had disappointed him so. “It should never have led back to me! The poison was meant to work slowly, a painful, lingering death. Appearing as a weakness, a trifling cold for several days. The source unknown, undetectable. Until death comes on quick, the cause dying with its victim.”

Such poisons were known to Loki, though he wondered where the Lady Sif had acquired one. The flaw in her plan was immediately obvious to him, and perhaps it would have been to Sif, if desperation had not clouded her judgement, or pride had not caused her to so underestimate her enemy. “But Jane is mortal, Sif.”

Though his words were spoken surprisingly kindly, Sif hardened her eyes into a glower once more. “I know that, Loki! But how was I to know it would react so differently for her. Mortals are indeed weak, snivelling fools.” She paused, swallowing back the anger that threatened to simmer over once again. Her voice was calmer when she spoke, measured and controlled, uncharacteristic thought put into her words. “Convincing Jane to fight was easy enough, the mortal is hungry to prove herself. A few comments were all it took to convince her to face me in the training ground.”

Loki remained silent, but the condemnation in his eyes must have been poorly concealed, for Sif’s own flashed defensively. “I fought fair, Loki Laufeyson! None who watched could accuse me of anything less!” Loki’s eyes still watched her and she shifted guiltily under his gaze. “I did not need to humiliate her, Loki, or seek my vengeance in the fight. A small cut was all it took, the tip of my sword piercing her skin and drawing blood.”

Another pause, and once again Loki did not interrupt her. The story was reaching its conclusion now, and Loki was sure he could see something else flicker in her eyes for a moment. He recognised it well, the sweet taste of victory, once so close, now dashed into the realm of Hel itself.

“The poison attacked immediately. She collapsed. Thor carried her away to the healing rooms.” A look of disgust crossed her features. “I dropped my sword instantly of course, pushed the blade into the dirt as I pretended to help. But it was not enough. They had seen my blade spill blood, saw the weakling fall so quick. Suspicions were already rife and they turned on me instantly. The Warriors Three! My friends!”

“It is strange to hear that word from your lips, my Lady. For many centuries you have called them by far less generous names.” Sif glared at Loki’s interruption, but he just smirked at her, unable to resist the opportunity to goad her, and eager to prevent her tirade from growing into anger once more.

“They took the sword from me. Took it to the healing room. They discovered the poison and found the antidote. Again she defied me, she did not die as she ought and instead lived to condemn me to this dungeon and take my place as Queen!”

“Your actions condemned you, Sif, not the mortal.”

“My friends condemned me! They did not even believe my innocence; that someone wished to see me suffer for their own crimes! They would have seen me dragged to the dungeons themselves! My comrades who had once fought at my side!”

“Indeed, it is quite the mystery.”

A scowl answered him, before Sif continued, “They could not prove it, and Thor insisted on a fair trial. So they went to my brother. Heimdall may have remained silent so far, but he could not lie to his future King.” She sighed, “At least that of my own blood was not so quick to betray me. But he saw me place the poison on the blade, saw me trigger the rock fall and sabotage the mortal’s mare.”

Her voice fell quiet then, and she sat back, sagging against the wall of her prison cell. Her story was over and Loki could well picture the rest. At least she had been granted the mercy of a trial, even if it still led to her imprisonment.

He remained silent for several moments, thinking upon her story and the attempts she had made on the mortal’s life. They were foolish attempts, none succeeding, but he could not help but admire her audacity to try such extreme measures. And he could not help but acknowledge that without the luck of Yggdrasil on her side, the mortal would have surely fallen at the warrior’s hand. And luck was something any strategist must consider.

“Your attempts on the mortal’s life are quite amusing, Sif. Perhaps with a little more care and thought, you may have found yourself sitting upon that throne you so covet, and not on the hard bench of a dungeon.”

“It was the mortal’s luck that led to my downfall, and my brother’s gift my curse.”

“No. It was desperation that was your ultimate downfall, my Lady. It made you short sighted and careless, woefully underestimating your enemy. But then, impatience and imprudence were always your weaknesses.”

“I have no such weaknesses, Loki Laufeyson! For many centuries I have fooled all of Asgard and the Crown Prince himself!”

“Yet you have never managed to fool me, my Lady.” There was a hint of pride in his voice, for Loki had always delighted in being the only one in Asgard to see through the Warriors charms and guiles. It had been he who had first questioned her motives many centuries ago and first challenged her openly. Perhaps it was this which brought them together; their mutual understanding of each other’s anger and bitterness, their thirst for power and desire to prove themselves. And perhaps their penchant to beguile and trick and toy with those foolish enough to trust them.

“Can you be so certain of that, Loki Laufeyson?” Sif flashed her teeth at him, a smile so sharp it would cut through diamonds. “How do you not know I trick you now? Perhaps I am here as a spy, to befriend you and find out what nefarious campaigns you still hold against Asgard.”

Laughter was Loki’s first reply, rich and warm again, filling the outer walls of the dungeon and shining like a light into the shadows of his heart. The icy glare from Sif merely increased his mirth, until once more her own scowl flickered weakly and threatened to twist into a smile. She had a glorious smile, when she chose to show it, full of laughter and joy and mischief. A smile she kept for _him_ , for when she did not have to play her games and hide her iniquitous disposition.

Eventually the laughter faded from his lips and only his smirk remained. “I doubt even you would be so conceited to think such a plan could succeed. You may play the devoted, loving friend with Thor and the loyal warrior with Asgard, but you were never skilled enough to deceive me. Or do you think the centuries you spent in my bed softened my head towards you?” He paused, his voice as hard and as cold as ice. If there was bitterness within, he did not acknowledge it. “I always knew what you were my Lady, you could never fool me.” He looked into her eyes then, daring her to challenge him, to argue, to try and fool him now. She held them for a few moments, before she looked away, back towards the far walls of her prison cell. In defeat, wounded pride. Perhaps even guilt, regrets.

“I had no reason to fool you, Loki Silvertongue.” She eventually replied, looking towards him once more, her eyes again mischievous and her smile playful. “You had other, more interesting uses.”

“Indeed I did.” Loki smirked at the insinuations and the memories it provoked, but his smirk threatened to slip into melancholy as he remembered what else had happened between them. “Perhaps for a time, at least.”

The resentment in his voice was barely concealed and Sif answered back quickly, her voice defensive. “It was your choice to keep your distant, Loki, after Thor's banishment.”

“I had my reasons.” His eyes flickered down momentarily.

“Reasons I did not understand at the time.” She sighed, perhaps in regret, perhaps in frustration, “We never made any promises, Loki. Your distance was a loss, but I had little to think it suspicious.”

“I know...” It was Loki’s turn now to divert his attentions, to regain his control over the emotions that threatened to crack his mask. He focused on the pages of his book, pushing the memories of those dark times away. Still, the bitterness was like a constant toothache in the back of his mind, a wound he could not heal and now it had reopened once again. It leaked into his voice, turning what he intended as a flippant comment into an acidic, angry slander. “I did not think you would all be so quick to turn against me.”

“And I did not think you would be so quick to try and kill me!”

“You betrayed me, Sif, your King!” His voice was raising angrily, his fist clenching around the edges of the book. He paused, swallowed his sudden anger and continued, “Though I should not have been surprised. I would not want to feel neglected.” His light, sarcastic tone was not enough to conceal the underlying resentment and anger. It still simmered within his veins, for he could not forget how quickly she had cast him aside and chased his brother to Midgard.

“Betrayed you? I was merely furthering our plans, or did you think I had truly forgotten my intentions?”

“If it was the throne you sought so dearly, my Lady, why did you betray me and fight to return my brother from his banishment? I would have gladly made you my queen.”

Sif openly scoffed at his words, and Loki tried to push down his anger and irritation, “And be the bride of the hated, replacement King? To suffer demotion when your father awoke and Thor returned?” She shook her head and stood up, “I was to return him to Asgard and further my cause of becoming his bride. It would not have been much longer, you know, if that stupid mortal had not ruined my plans.”

“Plans that were the product of your desperation and impatience. You would have done better to join with me, for was it not together that we able to fool all of Asgard?”

Sif glared at Loki, but she made no answer. They both knew too well how often Loki had covered for her, using his silvertongue to dissipate any mistrust thrown her way over the centuries. And Loki’s own natural penchant for mischief disguised many a trick that went array, and afforded Sif a comparison in loyalty and bravery that was revered throughout Asgard. 

“Your own desperation was your downfall too, Loki Laufeyson, you cannot deny that.”

Loki made no move to deny it. Too many months he had been consumed with his own misjudgements and failures in the silence of his prison cell. “Then perhaps we share in defeat that which we have always shared in glory.”

“I share little with you, Loki Laufeyson! Except the confinement of this prison and a mutual desire for the throne!”

A rich laughter answered Sif’s scathing words.

Sif glared at him, her words cutting through his laughter. “I may have failed in my recent endeavours Loki, but I did not try and destroy two realms in doing so.” She looked pointedly at Loki as she continued, “Tell me Loki, if I had become your Queen whilst Thor remained in banishment, would you have still attempted to destroy Jotenheim? Still tried to conquer Midgard?”

“Perhaps...” Loki looked at Sif, “You did force my hand when you went to rescue Thor. Perhaps my actions could have worked out… pleasanter for us all.”

“The Warriors Three would have still tried to rescue Thor; it was Hogun’s idea to travel to Midgard.”

“And I am sure you tried hard to convince them otherwise.”

Sif shrugged, “I saw an opportunity and took it, how was I to know that Thor had found himself a mortal!”

“Indeed,” Loki sighed, “A mortal who caused him to change and become worthy once more. It seems this simple mortal has foiled each of our plans. Perhaps she is not as unfit for the throne as you disparage her for, Sif.”

“The throne of Asgard should have been mine!”

“And yet a mortal will sit upon it and rule as Queen.” Loki was once again growing tired of Sif’s resentment, it echoed too painfully his own. Instead he tried to lighten the tone between them once more. “And what part did you envisage for me, my Lady, if your plans had succeeded?”

 “The same as they ever were. As Queen, it would not have been difficult to convince Thor to grant you clemency. The freedom of house arrest would have served us both well.”

“Indeed, for a while at least. And I am most gracious for the honour of including me in your plans.” He held her gaze, eyes fierce, waiting for her to flinch or turn away, betraying the lies she told. Yet she did neither, holding his gaze defiantly, until it was he who looked away, unable to accept the truth of her words. Or perhaps because he did not want to admit she could fool him too, in one respect at least. He swallowed, hardened his lips into a smirk and met her eyes once more.

“And so your great lifelong plan has fallen apart Sif, whatever will you do now?”

“Certainly not remain here, in this prison. If I cannot be Asgard's Queen then I will make it pay for what it has done.”

“And how do you intend to do that, my Lady?”

There was a mischievous, curious look in his expression now, lips twisting into a smile. Sif had never been able to resist a challenge and she looked at him in intrigue, saw the nefarious plots glistening behind his eyes.

Her smirk widened, her own eyes flashing with challenge and mischief. It was a look only Loki was allowed to see, only Loki who understood what it meant. And only Loki who had ever understood the real warrior behind her loyal, valiant mask.

“First, I must find a way to escape. This prison is the only barrier.” She walked towards the glass wall, tapped it lightly, “After a few days they will drop the guards on the door and the few along the stairwell will be easy enough to overcome.”

“Already you show how little you have learnt from your failures, Sif. You should not so easily underestimate your enemy thrice.” He stood up and walked towards the glass that separated them. “There is no way of escape, my Lady, at least not for you.” He paused when he reached the prison walls, near to where she stood, his voice gentle, inviting. “Let me help you.”

“I do not need anyone’s help, Loki Laufeyson!”

“Indeed, my Lady, but perhaps it would be more… entertaining… if we choose to work together. It has served us well before.”

He placed his palm on the glass between them and whispered beneath his breath. There was a sudden flash of emerald and a moment later Loki’s hand reached through the glass, gently caressing Sif’s cheek.

The warrior jerked at the motion, but then looked at him in acquiescence; her lips breaking into the first genuine smile he had seen grace her lips since her arrival. “When do we start?”

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously the “when do we start” is from the first Thor 2 trailer, but I’m mentioning it anyway.  
> And that’s all folks! Hope you liked reading this drabble that got a lot, lot longer!  
> Oh and I haven’t forgotten my other Loki/Sif stories – I hope to update them very soon.  
> Thanks for reading! :-)


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